


The Rose, The Pride

by youngathletesonice



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: America is also hurt, Angst, I guess there is some graphic stuff here but it's watevs, I'm sorry again, I'm sorry if this was sad, Iggy gets shot but he lives, Independence Day - Freeform, It's really not that bad, M/M, Picture Inspired Fic, Sad Iggy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-18
Updated: 2013-02-18
Packaged: 2017-11-29 16:58:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/689303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youngathletesonice/pseuds/youngathletesonice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A really short oneshot that deals with the Revolutionary War. Poor Iggy...I kinda made Alfred seem heartless but he really wasn't. Wasn't my intention to make him so.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Rose, The Pride

**The Rose, The Pride**

**\--  
**

 

~1775~

The rain showered down relentlessly, berating our presence on this dull and horrid day. The sun was long gone and a cold gust was sent in its place, slapping our privileged faces and chilling us to the core. The ground no longer held any color for it reflected the sky: gray. Dull.

Lifeless.

My burgundy hat shielded my eyes from the spectacle before me as the rain dripped from the fringes, catching my attention to his boots. His boots, covered in mud, standing at attention towards me, waiting for my reaction. I could feel the wind kiss my sodden neck, earning a shiver as the cold swept through my entire body. My back felt exposed for I was alone, facing endless miles of barren wasteland that is soon to be my grave. Soon to be my companion.

I close my eyes briefly and am welcomed by a blast of color. A bright green that seemed to dance on silver winds and a viridian pond that rippled from the push of a gentle breeze. My eyes, again, cast downward, saw a bundle of gold swirling and prancing with the fluttering wind, aloft with the music of laughter. Swiss blue sapphires gleamed into my oregano eyes with a hint of humor behind those glassy pools of wonder.

"One more time, Iggy!"

"One last time, Arthur. Stand up and face me." Such a contrast from the innocent, fluttering mewl was a harsh, unrendering growl. I could feel my heart thump wildly, not in anticipation but in fear. Not fear of my eminent death, but of an eminent loss. I slowly got up to my feet; feeling my knees pop and feeling my bones crack from my age.

He was so much younger. So full of life.

What have I done?

I slowly inhale a shuddering breath and lift my head to meet his unwavering gaze.

Oh how beautiful he was. Even with the exhaustion of war and the purple shadows that slept beneath his eyes, he was still breathtakingly stunning. His hair, drenched from the rain, no longer possessed the vitality it once did, worn down from this never-ending struggle, but I still yearned to touch it, to string my fingers through his locks of spun gold. His skin was covered in bruises that I simply wanted to kiss. The occasional scratch and scar only made me want to kiss them away, to protect him of anything that would ever harm him.

Does that include me, too?

His eyes...good God, his eyes. Still that same hue of blue that was never replicated in any portrait I drew of him. His eyes stopped my breathing, nearly suffocating me until he would blink, releasing the trance for only a millisecond before I was pulled in again. His lips were chapped even in the rain and were a shade of blue from the cold. I remember when his lips were almost too big for his face, always a delicious color of pink. It was almost a shame that he didn't take care of his appearance but who am I to judge?

My clothes were soaked in the rain and were tattered and worse for wear. The scratchy red uniform irritated my skin and made me almost miserable in the freezing rain.

If I could be any more miserable.

I could hear him snap in annoyance, cocking his gun and aiming at, ironically, my heart. My heart immediately slowed as if to avoid detection with less movement but I think that Alfred knew basic anatomy. I taught him that myself. His eyes also snapped at me, breaking the trance and finally allowing coherent thoughts into my head.

I didn't want to die.

I had to die.

I don't want to die.

It was inevitable.

I sucked in a breath before the bullet pierced my chest, tearing flesh and breaking bone as it exited out of my lonely back. I collided with the ground with a thud and could feel the blood draining out of my body. I looked to the side to see my fingers turning a deathly shade of blue as the cold engulfed all feeling from my extremities. The sound of cheering could be heard but it sounded so distant.

Hearing and feeling usually are the first things to go when you die.

I wanted to grunt in pain as I felt my organs slowly shut down while I was still conscious but I couldn't get any sounds to leave my throat. All I could do was sit there, feeling my life drain out of my body as my blood is and await total blackness.

It took me by surprise when I saw America standing before me. I didn't even see him coming. He looked at my broken body and I thought I saw a flash of humor from the past flick through his eyes. I was hoping it was. If it was, I wouldn't be crying. I doubt he could see my tears with the rain pounding on my face.

I saw his lips move but I couldn't hear them from the lack of life in my body. The same flick passed through his eyes again. Was it humor? Or love? Or hatred? I couldn't tell with the pounding of my brain, trying to get itself to function.

I guess your brain is that last one to go. Scientists can't really be exact since they would have to die to know for sure.

Suddenly, I could see. I must've passed out because Alfred and his army were no longer there. I could hear the rain continue to fall on the ground and hear the wind cry all around me.

I sat up gingerly and winced from my bullet wound. The wound will probably take weeks to heal but the pain in my chest will probably take longer.

How long will it take?

I guess I'll never know for a millennia is such a long time...

 

 

\--

~End~


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